The Ice Inside Your Soul
by A Girl In NYC
Summary: "You bloody betrayed me!" He yelled, lunging at me, our noses touching, "You were weak." Scabior/OC. Originally a One-Shot, now a little series of parts. R&R please!
1. Ice Inside Your Soul

_A one-shot that's been on my mind since I saw HP: Deathy Hallows Part 1. I wanted to add another girl to the Golden Trio, and what if she was in Gryffindor, but the rest of her family were Death Eaters and Slytherins? And what if she had a history with Scabior, and was still in love with the Snatcher when he captured her and Harry, Hermione and Ron? I wrote this to the song "Jar of Hearts", and got the titles from there, because I imagine that Scabior and this OC's relationship would be described by that song. Let me know if you like this one-shot, because then I may write a whole story. Reviews would be absolutely appreciated!_

**_"The Ice Inside Your Soul__"_  
A Scabior/OC One-Shot**

I ran so fast, the pine needles under me almost made me slip because of my speed.

I swirled around quickly as I ran and a quick hex flew from my wand that I'd gotten when I was eleven, at Ollivander's. The men running after me, the Snatchers, chased Hermione, Ron, Harry and me like a pack of werewolves, which they actually were. I didn't stop, I just kept running as fast as my legs would allow me. My plaid shirt whipped in the wind and my hair smacked my face, the blond streaks slapping my cheek. I dashed faster, my knees working their hardest to make the joints move faster. I looked over to my right, in time to see Ron fall on the ground in shackles, binded. I swore under my breath but kept running, sending yet another hex backwards at the multiple Snatchers. Hermione and Harry were up ahead at the clearing in the woods. I picked up so much speed that it felt like it wasn't possible. But just as I reached the clearing, I tripped and I fell. Hermione hurled a charm at Harry, which completely disfigured his face, to conceal his identity from these predatory Snatchers, who were climbing down the rocks to us.

"_Sawyer_!"

Hermione called out to me as she saw me on the forest floor, which was decorated with old leaves from the past fall. I slammed both palms on the ground, ready to yank myself up, when a black combat boot-clad foot stomped in front of me. I swallowed harshly, huffing. A rough hand roughly grabbed me up by my old jacket and I was on my feet in a second, the back of my shirt bunching in the clenched fist. My straw-blond hair flailed in my face with the fast and aggressive movement. Greyback, the infamous werewolf, had me in his clutches. Harry was harshly grabbed by another Snatcher, as was Hermione. Ron was being dragged over by a Snatcher. We all stood in a small group, Harry, Hermione and me all swapping scared glances. And then we heard crunching of leaves coming towards us.

I didn't dare turn around.

He came to face the three of us. I never wanted to see him again, no matter how many emotions and feelings I felt for him, no matter how much we'd been through, no matter how many fights we'd been in, no matter how many "I love you"s he had muttered to me.

He strutted inside the circle like a professional, a smug smirk slapped onto his face. His greyish-green eyes were intensely looking at Harry, and he had his hands folded, attempting to figure out who Harry was. His torn, dirty clothing was nothing new. He wore a black, slim leather jacket, a thin burgandy scarf, a black studded belt, a dirty and torn red checkered shirt, old and skinny tartan pants and rough black, clunky combat boots. A silver chain hitched to his pants pocket and the rings on his fingers finished off the sinster ensemble. His long, mousy brownish-black hair with that signature faded red streak at the top was nothing foreign to me. "Well, well. And _who_ do we have here?" He grinned sinisterly, his British accent putting ephasis on the menacing tone.

He glared at Harry first.

"Vernon Dudley," Harry made up his Muggle-uncle's name on the spot.

I swallowed hard, faithful he hadn't noticed me yet. He glared at Harry and grimaced rudely at the sight of Harry's distorted face. He glanced at his fellow gang and snarled, "Check that." His Snatchers nodded and began going through Hermione's bag. Greyback held me rough and tightly, almost painfully. A few streaks of hair was across my face, hopefully disguising me a little bit. He moved on to Hermione, who was struggling against her Snatcher. "And you?" He hissed at her, pointing at her accussingly. Hermione managed to choke out, "Penelope Clearwater. Half-blood," while shivering. He smirked, uninterested and moved on to me. I swore in my head and I trembled against Greyback, desperately wanting to run, run as fast as I could.

Not now.

His dark eyes searched mine, flickering back and forth and he realized it was me. He inhaled patiently and reached up a black-gloved hand, which had the finger spaces cut off. His hand was rough as he brushed my hair gently off my face. I huffed quietly, our glances not leaving each other. His dark eyes searched mine endlessly. I didn't reject his touch, I merely glared at him, trembling.

The wind blew a strand of his brown hair that was in his face, his hair long as always, part of it in a ponytail, the rest in tangles. He snapped out of his speechless silence and snarled at Greyback, "Release her."

Greyback threw me to the ground, to _his_ feet, in humiliation. I gasped as I was thrown, to the ground, my ribcage aching with the swift body slam. I glanced up at him with fear and he lifted me up aggressively with one hand. The cut on my lip and gash on my arm from tripping burned, my ribcage aching. I was pretty positive from the piercing pain, I'd broken two or three ribs.

He held me close to him, so I could smell his familiar scent of the forest. He brushed a hand to my cheek and inhaled. I blinked at him, irritated, as he held me harshly in his clutch, his hand curled around my forearm, twisting it and bringing it to him, clashing our faces so close our noses brushed against each other.

"Sawyer," He breathed, our noses touching.

"Scabior," I muttered his name in an exhale, so frustrated I could barely speak.

"Still a _traitor_?" He choked out, in what I sensed was frustration, anger, and a little bit of disappointment. I glared at him and our faces were inches apart as he gripped me so tight he thrusted me even closer to his face, our lips almost brushing. I chewed on my lip. I nodded at him silently, holding in anger.

My parents were Slytherins, Purebloods. And they were Death Eaters, the followers of the Dark Lord, Voldemort. When I first went to Hogwarts, they expected me to be in Slytherin, seeing as every single family member in my line of heritage had been. It was a shock to them, therefore, when they were informed I had been sorted into Gryffindor. Our closest family friends were the Malfoy family, and my parents were close with Severus Snape. Both my parents loathed me, and I'm not lying. I hadn't spoken to them in months.

"Change of plans. We ain't taking this lot to the Ministry. Take 'em to the Manor." Scabior murmured to him gang, but still nose-to-nose with me, his eyes not leaving mine, his Cockney accent hitting every word.

* * *

Night fell, howling and fritghtening nighttime noises coming from the vacant forests around Malfoy Manor. Scabior had yet to release me from his clutch, his fingers curled around my neck. He towered over me in height, like boys sometimes do, and occasionally glanced my way as we walked in silence. The last thing I'd said to him was "I hate you". If I could turn back the hands of time, I never would have told him that. Because it was a lie.

The tall, hedge-rimmed walls of the long walkway to the gate of Malfoy Manor was surreal. Last summer I was spending my days here as a guest of Draco's, and now I was a prisoner here. The beautiful walkway now looked sullen and black-hearted. Times had changed.

Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy had been like second parents to me, Draco a friend and sometimes a crush. Bellatrix was always insane, but I saw her as an aunt-like figure, given I'd spent so much time around that house. Now all four of them were my enemies. It was like a slap in the face.

Scabior was walking faster than the others. His gang was way behind us with Hermione, Harry, and Ron in their clutches. They were so far away that it was hard to make out their faces. I glanced behind me to see them, but Scabior jerked my body aggressively. "Keep walking." He murmured, his eyes clearly reading frustration and sadness.

"You can stop this," I blurted at him, "You have the authority now. Just let us go and say we escaped, or ran, or _something_. Please, Scabior. You know you can stop this here, now." He stole a glance at me, but regained himself and kept walking, his eyes attempting to be steady, straightforward, and his walking rigid and strict, "No, I can't."

"Yes, you can." I felt the tears creep up somewhere behind my eyes. "_Please_, Scabior. You can't let this happen. Don't listen to Bellatrix, or Lucius Malfoy, or the Dark Lord. Or my parents."

He abruptly stopped walking, spinning around to look at me with frustration, "Sawyer, I'm a bounty hunter. I get assigned a target, I capture, I deliever. I get paid. That's how it works."

"No, this isn't like that." I attempted.

This made him _snap_.

"You bloody _betrayed_ me." He yelled, lunging at me, our noses brushing again, his breath hot on my face. I glanced up in his eyes, trembling in fear and frustraion. He snapped, "You were _weak_. You refused to be by my side, and betrayed me _and_ your family for _them_! The mudbloods, the half-bloods...the _muggles_." He spat the words with venom.

"Your parents begged me to go after you, to change your ways. To guide you, to protect you. To watch over you. So I went after you. And for what? To be told by you that you hate me, and you never want to see me again, replacing me with _muggleborns_ and _mudbloods_? It's too late, Sawyer. Far too late. Once the faith is lost, everything else is lost." He snarled, our noses touching, our mouths two inches away from each other.

His British speech accented every word he spoke.

For my parents to beg Scabior was rare. They hated him before I became apart of Dumbledore's Army, but once I was on the other side of the war's frontline, they appreciated him and adored him. For their daughter to have fallen in love with the Ministry's best Snatcher and a Death Eater, they were pleased. But once they realized that I was on the frontline, they hated him less and hated me more.

"No," I said, feeling his hot breath on me, "It's never too late to change. I'm sorry, if I could take back everything I said to you...I would. You know I would. But times have changed, and so have I." His eyes flickered quickly, searching mine, another frustrated look on his handsomely rugged face, and a flash of heartbreak and anger surged in his greyish-green irises.

He gently, slowly reached out to me and his lips clashed with mine. I searched his eyes, then closed my own. He towered over me in height, so he arched his head down and the kiss deepened. His black-glove clad hand reached up and brushed the right side of my face, pushing a strand of straw-blond hair behind my ear. He kissed my bottom lip quietly, and the tears streaked down my cheeks, hitting our interlocked lips. The whole kiss feeling longer than it really was. The kiss felt ravenous, yet lonely. It filled me with nostalgia of better days with Scabior. He opened his eyes as he broke away, his eyes darting back and forth, looking into mine with something I sensed as heartbreak with anger, again. Against my better judgement, and I buried my face in his chest, my hot tears staining his black leather jacket.

"I love you." He murmured.

It was strange to hear him mutter that, seeing as that wasn't something he always rolled off his tongue. Anything he uttered usually was sarcastic, mean, and harsh insults, snarls and growls. Even if we were from seperate sides of the tracks, he still loved me.

Yet he had lost faith in me.

I trembled in Scabior's arms when I heard a heart-stoppingly loud rumble of thunder, a streak of lightening flashing across the night. It was then I noticed that we stood at the front gate of Malfoy Manor, the dark, black iron gates intimidating and tall. The edges were spiked and twisted and turned in different directions. We were there, facing my prison, ready to be judged by my enemies. He really was going to go through with this, no matter what happened between us.

"And I'm sorry, Sawyer. But this is the way it has to be."


	2. Where You Left My Heart to Bleed

_You reviewers are legit fantastic. I didn't expect many readers to review on Scabior/OC one-shot, but based off one little chapter, I recieved 9 reviews. Thank you so very much, it inspired me to write another chapter to this story! I really hope you like this one as much as the first, I attempted to throw in a sneak peek of Sawyer and Scabior's past and when they're at Malfoy Manor, because I got suggestions for both. For the title of Part II, it is again from another Christina Perri song, called _Bang Bang Bang. _Her music's lyrics and meanings seem to fit Scabior and Sawyer's relationship, so just if you were wondering, that's where the title is from. Also, I hope you like this one as much as the first part. Please review!  
Reviews are greatly, greatly appreciated!_ :)

**"_Where You Left My Heart to Bleed_"  
Scabior/OC, Part II**

_"Sawyer Remmington_! Come back here this _instant_!"

My mother's icy voice hissed from behind me as I sprinted faster than I really was able to run. My hand was in Scabior's, as we ran through the Leaky Cauldron, practically knocking over witches and wizards, tables, and chairs. Various people shouted in protests, and _watch it!_ and _watch where you're going!_ as we pushed our way, running as fast as we could, away from my parents. I knew they'd be embarassed and infuriated at my quick escape, given that Scabior had abruptly waltzed up to our table and rescued me from a boring and intolerably snobby late-night dinner with the Ministry of Magic and a few associates of theirs, along with Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy.

"Malcolm, get your daughter back here, _now_!" My mother barked at my father, but my father's response I didn't hear as Scabior yanked me through the crowd, farther and farther away from my strict parents.

People in the pub glared and gasped as the two of us laughed like two insane teenagers in love, running through the public and popular pub like two escapees from Azkaban. He yanked me along, Scabior ahead of me, and I chased behind him.

"Excuse us, pardon us! That's right, people. Make way!" He yelled, yanking me in a sprint through the pub, both of us in fits of hysterical laughter.

I knocked over a table, complete with around five beer mugs on it, crashing to the floor and the alcoholic liquid spilling all over the floor. A group of wizards shouted angry words after me, but Scabior and I laughed as we finally ran out the back door of the Leaky Cauldron, into the rainy, night streets of Diagon Alley.

I was in a fit of laughter, as was Scabior, when we finally stopped running, leaning up against a brick wall next to the back exit of the Leaky Cauldron. He grabbed me around the waist as we both laughed, practically splittling our sides from laughing so hard.

I was laughing so hard, catching my breath, standing next to Scabior. He smiled and his laughter died down, yet leaving a smile on his face. His usual clothes was what he wore, torn leather jacket and skinny tartan pants, his long and tangled hair never missing his red stripe on his head. "Oh my God," I simmered from laughing, "My parents are going to murder me after tonight."

"Why? Am I_ that_ bad of an influence on you, beautiful?" He murmured, his eyes searching mine.

He smirked at this, his back up against the brick wall. Given he was three years my senior (me eighteen, he twenty-one) and taller, he towered over me, and he arched his head down to me. He gently, slowly reached his lips to mine, quietly pausing for a moment in the London night air before he finally pressed his lips into mine. The clash of our lips sent my blood running cold, the hair on the back of my neck standing up. I kissed his lips hard, and he was gentle as he kissed my upper lip.

Scabior reached his hand slowly, almost carefully, to my ear, tucking a strand of blond hair behind it. He placed both of his black-glove clad hands on the back of my neck, gently. The light rain coming down on the London night in Diagon Alley made me feel like nothing in the world could stop me, not my parents, Death Eaters, the Malfoys, no one. It was a muggy August night, the night before I went back to Hogwarts for my last year as a student there.

"You're so insane," I looked up at him after the kiss broke, and teased, "Dragging me through pubs, rescuing me from dumb dinner parties. You're a bad infulence, Scabior. I better watch out."

"Oh, yes. Watch yer back, love." He smirked, breaking into a small smile, "Or would you rather me snatch you and bring ya back to the dinner party you so regrettably escaped from?"

His Cockney accent made me smile.

"You'd snatch _me_?" I asked, mockingly shocked, and began walking backwards away from him in the nighttime of Diagon Alley, the starry night sky above us, the moon hardly visible with the very light rain, "No you wouldn't. You wouldn't dare..."

"I wouldn't?" He asked, a sinister yet playful look in his dark eyes, cracking his knuckles, "I beg to differ, Sawyer. Really." My eyes widened, and a smile cracked on my mouth, as I bolted from where we were standing running through the familiar streets of Diagon Alley, running by the shops I'd bought my first wizarding supplies when I was eleven. Scabior ran after me, and I knew obviously I could never run as fast as one of the Ministry's Snatchers.

As I bolted past Ollivander's, I noticed it was completely abandoned, the windows dusty, cobwebs lacing them, and the door seemingly yanked off it's hinges, barely hanging on the door frame. The shop was black and dark, no signs of light or Ollivander himself. The once bright and happy shop I ran into when I was little was now empty and depressing now at my age of eighteen.

As I stopped to look around, almost every shop in Diagon Alley was that way.

The robe shop, the pet shop, the book shop. Even the broom shop. Gringotts was dark in the corner, and I couldn't tell whether it was still functioning or not. I chewed on my lip, feeling a lump form in my throat and something tugging at my heart strings, realizing that every joyful childhood memory was ruined as I saw the once happy place of Diagon Alley in ruins, abandoned.

Scabior stopped behind me, grabbing my waist and putting his chin on my head, "What is it, beautiful?"

"Times are changing." Was all I could mutter from my lips.

_But that was all a long time ago. _

I'd teased him that he would never snatch me.

Now it was his_ job_.

"Draco! Sweetie, come." Bellatrix grinned manically, holding Harry in a headlock up against her torso, her wand to his throat. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I were all in the Malfoy's manor, in the dark and icy foyer of the house. I trembled in Scabior's rough clutch, not believing that these people could be this evil.

I snapped back to reality.

And I realized he was really doing this.

Scabior held me close, my back tightly against his chest.

"_Please_, Scabior." I heard my voice tremble, "You don't have to do this."

"I serve your parents, and I serve the Dark Lord." He murmured in my ear, "You know this...I'm sorry, Sawyer."

I felt like tears would pour at a steady pace at any moment, but I bit my lip and held it in. I couldn't believe how our relationship had changed throughout time, and how a healthy love could turn into a posionous one. I felt his chest inhale and exhale, and I wondered if he was still infuriated with me.

"And who, who, _who_ do we have _here_?" Bellartix traded Harry off to one of Scabior's snatchers, and her insane blue eyes targeted me. I winced as she waltzed quickly to me, grinning crookedly, "Look what the cat dragged in! If it isn't the _blood traitor_!" She snarled, suddenly in my face. I grimaced, feeling Scabior's hand tighten on my neck.

"Little Miss _Sawyer Remmington_! Look here, Draco. I knew your _friend_ was a traitor from the _beginning_." Bellatrix snapped, her face in mine.

Draco looked at me with pity and something I sensed as remorse. Our friendship had been strong and somewhat flirtaious at times. He'd trusted me and I'd trusted him. It was ruined now. We locked eyes for a moment, then dropped it, both of us slightly ashamed to see each other in such bad light.

My cheeks felt hot as Bellatrix continued to rant rudely in my face.

"You will _never_ live up to your parents," She cackled manically, "I always knew you were a weakling, no better than a _muggle_. The Dark Lord had such strong faith in you, but I warned him, I did. Your parents warned him, they know you are nothing but a filfthy, worthless excuse for a witch!" She cackled, her insane laughter flowling throughout the manor.

Scabior's hand re-gripped my neck, pressing me even closer to him like a protective parent, as he cleared his throat, "Ms. Lestrange, she's _not_ what you're after, is she?"

There was a distinctive, harsh hint of a threat in his Cockney-accented speech.

Bellatrix's expression was of pure sadistic pleasure, sensing Scabior's comment as a protective warning for her to back off and focus on Harry instead. Hermione, Ron and Harry all looked at the scene that was unravelling, all of us exchanging scared, fearful and terrifed glances.

"Scabior, the Ministry's finest Snatcher, protective of the_ traitor_!" Bellatrix laughed insanely.

I heard a small growl of annoyance rumbling in his chest, re-gripping the back of my neck, pressing me even closer to him.

Bellatrix waltzed up again, grabbing my forearm harshly in her claw-like grip, "That won't do! Let us have a little chat, ey, deary? Girl to girl? Woman to woman? Witch to _blood traitor_!"

I grimaced in pain as she squeezed my arm, ripping me out of Scabior's grasp.

"Ey, she ain't done _nothing_!" He snapped at Bellatrix, snapping out his wand.

"Take the kids _downstairs_!" She barked, ignoring him, and Peter Pettigrew withdrew himself from the shadows, grabbing Harry, Ron and Hermione, tearing them from the room, more Snatchers helping Pettigrew, dragging them from the foyer. "Sawyer!" was a scream shared by my three best friends, harsh yells and calls of my name tearing from their throats as their voices faded to echoes as they were thrown into the Malfoy's dungeons.

I yelped as Bellatrix grabbed my shirt, slamming me down to the hard marble floors, and climbed on top of me, her wand in hand. I screamed as she began wrenching my hair back with one claw of a hand, taking her wand to my forearm, rolling up the sleeve with one swift movement.

With a silent spell from Bellatrix and a flick of her wand, I felt the worst pain I'd ever felt, as though a sharp object was slicing my skin like a knife. I screamed so loud my lungs hurt, tears spilling out and down my cheeks like a river. I coughed through sobbing and I yelled loudly, pleading and begging.

I saw Scabior watching, looking at me, standing there.

"Please," I sobbed. I screamed as I realized that with her wand, Bellatrix was writing _blood traitor_ in cursive in my arm with a spell. Blood curdled out of the opening skin. I yelled, hearing the ripping noise from my throat echoing off the walls, frightening myself from my own blood-curdling screaming. I flailed on the cold marble floor, bursting into tears, not believing the incredible pain at each rip of my skin, Bellatrix still wrenching my hair and asking me in horrible screams about what I knew about the Ministry, about Voldemort, and about Harry.

"Scabior, _please_!" I choked, sobbing.

I ignored her questions, pleading to the man who looked down at me with dark, twisted eyes, a black leather jacket, a chain on his skinny tartan pants, and black combat boots. His expression was infuriation and heartbreak.

"_Scabior_! _Please_!" I screamed, my screaming louder as the cuts and gashes in my arm became more severe and deep. Blood seeped from the lettering of _blood traitor_ on my arm.

Nothing inside me believed that the man who'd kissed me in Diagon Alley or ran with me through the Leaky Cauldron was the monster who looked down at me, his dark, untrusting eyes interlocking. He leaned in and drew his wand.

Nothing inside me believed this monster loved me.


	3. Who Do You Think You Are?

_9 more reviews, you guys are so amazing. I love writing these chapters, so please review. This next chapter has another flashback between Sawyer and Scabior, where it shows how and when they broke up. I don't want to change too much about HP, but suggestions would be awesome too. Given that I based this fanfiction (intending it to be a one-shot) towards the end of the movie, it doesn't leave me much time for Scabior's other scenes. As I stated before, suggestions on scenes with Sawyer/Scabior would be amazing! I listened to a song off _HP: Sorcerer's Stone Soundtrack_, called _Leaving Hogwarts_. So amazingly beautiful. It inspired me to write this chapter. So, please review and I'll add more chapters! I'm really not very pleased with this chapter, so please forgive me if it's bad:(_

_Review & suggestions, please! :)_

**"_Who Do You Think You Are?_"  
****Scabior/OC, Part III**

_"You must be out of your mind if you honestly believe you will be the only Remmington to not follow the Dark Lord!"  
"We knew you were a muggle at heart. Just as odd, just as weak, and unwilling!"  
"You _dare_ betray the Dark Lord after all he has done for us!"_

My parents' scoldings echoed in my head like horrible memories that would not fade away.

Telling my parents that I wouldn't be a Death Eater was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do.

Tears streaked down my cheeks as I quickly walked through the crowds of busy and bustling of witches and wizards in the central Ministry of Magic. The black brick walls and large fountain in the middle of the Ministry made it look wealthy and gaudy. I bit my lip, the busy witches and wizards not noticing a teenager almost sprinting through the crowds, busy with their hectic lives. I tugged on my white and grey knit sweater's sleeve and wiped away the tears. I kept walking, knowing he was walking fast behind me. We criss-crossed through crowds of bustling wizards, witches and Ministry members. I huffed, wiping my eyes clean again, twsiting and turning until I came to a long hallway, black bricks and lime green dimmed lights like the rest of the Ministry. I looked behind me and I was relieved to see Scabior wasn't behind me. I felt the tears flow in, creep up behind my eyes and streak down my cheeks. As I had my head turned, I swirled back and met face to face with Scabior.

"Sawyer," He sighed, exasperadedly, "I'm a Snatcher. You can't _run_ from me, lovely. You know that."

He pressed me up against the black, cold brick wall with his blackl, half-gloved clad hand. He came close, our noses brushing, our lips almost clashing. I trembled, closing my eyes, tears spilling out like a river. I weakly looked up at him, towering over me in height, as we stood quietly in a lonely, empty hallway in an unknown alley in the middle of the Ministry.

Tears poured down my cheeks. He cupped his hand on my chin, lifting it up, "What's going on with you? Yer parents told me yer for _'em_? For them, the Muggles and Half-Bloods?"

"They're my friends, my_ family_." I urged in a mutter, putting my hand on his wrist that held my chin, "They need me."

He released me and hissed, "They are _not_. Who, 'arry Potter? Dumbledore? The Gryffindors?" He said mockingly, then became serious, "Sawyer, you're a Pureblood witch, 'nd you shouldn't be associatin' with them, let alone abandonin' your own family and going _against_ them."

"Scabior, don't talk about them like they mean nothing." I snapped at him.

"They _do_ mean nothin'. Are you_ thick_?" He snapped, his tangled, dark brown hair framing his handsomely rugged face, "What's the matter with you? This Wizarding War is beginning and you're ready to go up against us? Do you realize this is treason, Sawyer?"

I blinked up at him, and he gave me a infuriated glare.

"My parents are _wrong_. The Death Eaters aren't right. They aren't what I am. I won't be a follower." I snapped back at him, "And that includes you. Snatching and killing muggle-borns who work in the Ministry? And you're a Death Eater. You're a killer, Scabior."

His expression changed from vacant to pure rage and infuriation. He gripped my chin again and jilted me upright, bringing me to him. I quickly grasped his thin yet muscular wrist on instinct, and I looked up into his cold, black eyes, desperatley grasping his wrist that held onto my chin. My lip quivered and the tears fell past my eyes and hit my lips. With an infuriated expression like Scabior's, words weren't needed. I'd stepped over a line of Scabior's that should never be crossed. I whimpered in his grip, trembling from his clutch on me.

"Scabior, Scabior...you're _hurting_ me." I murmured, re-gripping his wrist. He growled, pulling me closer to him, our lips almost brushing. I ducked away from his attempted kiss, disgusted by his lust while not caring about killing innocent muggle-borns.

He paused for a moment, my denial of his affection sinking in. He tightening his grip on my chin, jilting me up more.

"Scabior, please. You're really hurting me," I gasped, my eyes widenening at his sudden twist in personality.

"Betrayal isn't somethin' I 'ppreciate, my lovely." He said lowly to my denial of his affection, his Cockney accent ringing in my eardrums, "And I love you, Sawyer. I won't let you abandon everythin'. I won't let you _turn away from me_." He pressed his lips to mine, released me quickly and I fell to my feet, huffing and rubbing my jaw, looking up at him.

"I don't love you." I murmured, "Not like before. I _hate_ you."

Looking up at the monster that he'd always been, but I never recognized.

_We didn't speak after that._

He went on to Azkaban for killing Muggles and for being tried and proven as a Death Eater and loyal of Lord Voldemort, while I started my last year at Hogwarts, while staying with the Weasley family at their Burrow.

Blood streaked down my arm as _blood traitor _was carved into my skin like a haphazard tattoo by Bellatrix. I screamed and flailed in pain, Bellatrix still on top of me, her wand pressing against my skin. Hot tears streaked down my face. She cackled and I saw Draco look away in shame, while Lucius and Narcissa watched, disgusted at my betrayal. I screamed at the pain, as she finished her work on my arm. Scabior and the Snatchers watched, Scabior's eyes watching mine and my every move.

Scabior withdrew his wand from his leather jacket and was on the move in a matter of seconds. With a flick of his wand, Bellatrix came off me, and I scrambled to my feet, blood dripping off my arm.

I ran to him.  
But Bellatrix was faster.

She threw a hex at him and his Snatchers.


	4. Scars of Your Love

_Hey readers! I am so sorry I put this off, I really didn't mean to. Yes, I did take the chapter title from "Rolling in the Deep", which is the theme for this chapter, which I suggest you listen to when you read this chapter, to get a better mood for it. With Harry Potter DH Part 2 coming out, and with Scabior, I need to update this! I really hope you guys still review :) So, I'm writing a chapter before diving into Part 2. Spoilers for those of you who don't know, do not read ahead: Scabior dies, as most of you already know. Love you Neville, but suddenly I'm hating you for killing Scabior...anyway, I'm really nervous and I don't really know what I should do about it in this fic. Should I have Scabior die after him and Sawyer have a fight or have turmoil in a few scenes, and Sawyer be heartbroken? Or should I have him live, and they work out everything? I need your advice, please! Please review? :)_

**"_Scars of Your Love_"  
Scabior/OC, Part IV**

I sat obidently at the black, extremely long dining room table. The dining room, my whole house, was way too fancy and expensive looking for someone like me to be living in it. I was dressed in a grey knit sweater with three huge brown buttons, grey skinny jeans, and a slouching grey beanie, with chipping black nailpolish. I felt so underdressed as my two tall, slender and sinister-looking parents flaunted themselves in expensive clothing I didn't dream to wear. We sat in the cold, black and gold dining hall of our house, with a few of their close Death-Eater friends, and, to my relief, Scabior.

He was underdressed as always; dark tartan skinnies with a chain hitched to the pocket, with black clunky combat boots, a ratty brown shirt, a leather jacket, and a red cloth wrapped around his left arm. His eyes were smoky and dark like always, the signature red stripe in his long brown hair.

My house was tall and wide, made of stone, and obnoxiously decorated with anything and everythin expensive. Oriental carpets, chandeliers, antiques, marble floors, expensive furniture, the works. We had a few house elves, who I befriended. They were the most innocent creatures. I had taken a liking to them ever since I met Harry's house elf friend, Dobby. My parents mistreated our house elves, and didn't care about them at all. Therefore, it was up to me to show some compassion.

My parents, Genevieve and Malcolm, stood up, while Scabior sat on the dining room table next to me as I sat in a chair. My parents had called this meeting to talk to me, but I was wondering now why all these people were here, with one thing in common; they were all Death Eaters. And, i was the only one who wasn't. I was a Dumbledore's Army fighter forever, no matter what. I bit my lip, brushed a strand of blond hair out of my eyes, and looked up at my parents, who wore irritated glares on their faces. I shouldn't be surprised. My parents absolutely _loathed_ me, and I'm not talking about a typical teenager who thinks that her parents hate her. They actually _hated_ me.

That's why I loved Scabior so much. Yes, he was a Snatcher and Death Eater; but the comfort he could give me was love that a parent and a partner could give. He was not only someone I fell in love with, but he was paternal to me. He watched out for me, protected me, and was guiding. He was nothing more I could ask for. Until that night, until my parents confronted me. Until Scabior and I fell out of love.

"Um, is there a reason for this, uh..._intervention_?" I asked carefully, my parents' aged expressions irritated. I looked at Scabior for insight, and he looked at me understandingly, as if he wanted me to just hear my parents out.

"You becomin' a Death Eater," Scabior said quietly.

My mother, the more hostile of the two of my parents, glared at me suspiciously, "Sawyer, you should've been expecting this. You've been acting against the family name for years now. You are a Remmington. You belong in Slytherin, not _Gryffindor_. Not one single witch or wizard in our family, or both sides, has ever been in Gryffindor. Yet you're the first. And you've yet to confirm yourself as a follower of the Dark Lord. You are expected to be a Death Eater very soon, young lady." My mother said, fixing her silverish-blond hair, sweeping it to the side.

"Why can't I be different than the rest of the family?" I snapped, irritated by my always stuck-up, snotty parents.  
"Sawyer, yer not bein' reasonable..." Scabior attempted.  
"_Scabior._" I said, my eyes asking him why he was arguing against me.

My father rolled his eyes, while my mother chewed on the inside of her lips in annoyance and impatience. I huffed, "I'm proud to be in Gryffindor. I didn't want to be in Slytherin, and the Sorting Hat knew that it wasn't the right place for me."

"Slytherin _is_ the right place for you." My mother urged, "But it's a little late for that now, eh? A few years late. This isn't the point of this meeting, Sawyer. The point is that you becoming a Death Eater is a wonderful oppurtunity. And, it is only fitting that you follow the Dark Lord after all the wonderful things he has done for us."

"_Wonderful_?" I spat, standing up quickly out of my chair in a rage, "You believe that killing innocent muggles, half-bloods and muggle-borns is _wonderful_? That's absolutely gross. It's disturbing, and to tell you the truth, I'm disgusted to even be called your daughter because of you. I'll never be a Death Eater. I'll never follow the Dark Lord. Sometimes I wonder if I was truly born into the wrong family. I don't fit in with you, I don't fit in with him." I pointed to both my parents,"This is stupid, and pointless. I'll _never_ join the Death Eaters. So please, just forget it!"

Scabior sighed as he watched me walk away.

I felt tears ready to spill, storming out of the dining room in the cold house and down the mammoth staircase, out the massive front door and ran down the stone steps, past the two massive statues on the front steps. My front yard was just a lawn with a road leading out to nowhere, to the woods and forests. I began walking, running a hand through my hair, frustrated.

The July night was dark and the harvest moon hung very low in the night sky, just above the tall hedges that lined the road to nowhere. The crunching of gravel beneath my feet made me feel more alone by the minute, and tears silently fell from my eyes. I glanced up to the stars, silently wishing I could be at the Burrow or Hogwarts with Harry, Ron and Hermione. I stood there, in the darkness, hedges on either side of me, the gates to my house far behind me.

I jumped a little when I felt arms around me. I twisted around and Scabior looked down at me, his eyes in alarm because I'd jumped. He said quietly, "'Ey, ey. Calm _down_, love."

My lip quivered a little, and I bit it to stop myself from crying. I felt like everything was falling apart at the seams. My parents were determined to make me a Death Eater, Dumbledore was dead. Harry, Hermione, and Ron were miles and miles away. I was being harassed by everyone to become a follower to the Dark Lord. And, the second Wizarding War was coming. I knew it. And I was being pulled by both sides of the war, even though I was dedicated to Dumbledore's side. Scabior sighed, his Cockney accent thick, "What's the 'atter?"

"They hate me." I muttered, referring to my parents.  
"Sawyer, yer really overexaggeratin'." He replied.

I bit my lip again, burying my face in his leather jacket, "I feel alone."  
There was silence in the dark night, and Scabior put his chin on my head,

"My lovely, you're _never_ alone."

* * *

I sprinted to Scabior, blood dripping from my arm, and I felt a crack of excruciating pain run through my abdomen once I reached him. I yelped and fell to the ground, realizing that I'd taken the hit Scabior and his Snatchers were supposed to get. He clutched my arms as I fell to the cold, hard marble flooring. Everything was blurred, and everything seemed in slow motion. I saw Scabior leaning over me, saying something. I couldn't make it out, the pain was so bad. After a few seconds, my hearing returned normal and I gasped for breath, the wind knocked out of me.

I felt Scabior take me accept me into his clutch, my face buried in the crook of his neck. "Bloody hell." I heard him murmur into my hair.

Nostalgia overtook my senses, my mind flashing in and out of endless flashbacks of Scabior and I. Whether it was kissing in Diagon Alley, running through the Leaky Cauldron, embracing quietly in between the tall hedges, yelling at each other in the quiet corridors of the Ministry, when I'd given him the Stag ring he always wore, or when I'd heard the news he'd been taken to Azkaban; these memories flooded back like an unstoppable hurricane.

I felt Scabior's wand on my abdomen, a quick flick, and the excruciating pain was gone, the breath was back into me. I choked, sucking in air, leaning against the crook of his chest, clutching a fistfull of his leather jacket in my clutch for support. I blinked up at him, dumbfounded that he had just saved me, seeing his handsomely rugged face, wishing everything could the way it was before, before this war, before this hatred. I swallowed, hard, and he blinked at me with his dark, menacing eyes.

Draco and Harry were in a heated duel, Hermione and Ron were sprinting to Dobby on the other side of the foyer of the Malfoys' mansion, and chaos was ensuing. Dobby yelled out to me in his small voice, "Sawyer, please! _Come quickly_!" I attempted to get up from the cold, marble floor.

Scabior pushed me back down, using his wand at my throat to sit me back down. The tip of the wand threateningly poked at my throat, and I gasped when I realized that Scabior was holding me to the ground. He stood up menacingly, as I sat down on the floor, my palms propping me up, my eyes down to the wand that threatened to pierce my throat.

I stared up at him in horror and confusion, the blood flushing from my cheeks.

The blood was streaking down my arm, my face dirtied and bruised a little; Scabior's tall, slim, menacing body stood in front of me as a blockade to escape. I was confused, seeing as he saved me from a fatal hex, but yet he was threatening me with his own wand. He leaned down, crouching in front of me like I was a child.

He arched his head. Our noses brushed, and he breathed in. He reached up with his black, cut-off glove clad hand and pushed away a strand of blond hair away from my eyes. I let a gasp escape me, searching his eyes for any trace of compassion. I found none. His eyes darted back and forth, examining me. He arched down again, clashing his lips against mine, pressing them up against my upper lip. I shut my eyes. His lips kissed my lower lip, and I kissed him desperately. His wand was pressed against my neck during the kiss; he didn't let his guard down. He harshly ripped his lips away from mine and stood back up, his wand pointed readily at me. I thought he was going to kill me.

"This doesn't change anythin'." Scabior muttered quietly, lowering his wand away from my throat. I looked up at him, confused, and he glared at me to run. He gaped at me, gesturing with his wand to Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Just _go_!" He roared, his glare dark and infuriated.

He was letting me go; he wasn't going to Avada Kedavra or hex me. I looked up at him, yanking myself up. I ran by him, brushing him as I sprinted by, looking over my shoulder. He grimly looked after me as I sprinted, his face infuriated and grim, glaring at me as I escaped. I jumped into Hermione, Ron, and Harry just as Dobby apparated us out of the Malfory Manor.

The last thing I saw was Scabior looking at me. The heartbroken, disappointed, infuriated expression on his face.  
He had the chance to kill me. _He let me go._

We landed on the shores of an isolated beach, at Shell Cottage. Dobby lay in Harry's arms. Ron, Hermione, and I sat beside them, realizing that Bellatrix had thrown a dagger into were we had apparated; the knife had landed in Dobby's chest, blood streaking from the little house elf's fragile body. Tears were flowing out of all of us, as Dobby looked up at all of us, smiling sadly. His innocent little face reminded me of happier times, like our second year at Hogwarts, when Harry was first being harassed by Dobby. Now, he laid dying in Harry's arms.

"It's a beautiful place," Dobby whispered, "To be with friends."

A vengeful and heartbroken feeling ignited in my veins. I remembered Scabior had said: _"This doesn't change anything."_ Tears spilled down my cheeks, streaking down as the waves crashed against the shoreline and Dobby died in Harry's arms. And Scabior was wrong.

_Everything's about to change._

* * *

**Review? :D**


	5. I Will Never Change

**Please Read: **_I just came back from seeing Deathly Hollows Part 2. Just, oh my gosh. Brilliant, but sad. I've been going through a few different ways to go about the few final parts to this story and how to insert Scabior and Sawyer, and I think I might do three more parts. Scabior didn't have many scenes, obviously, so I must write him in. A few more aspects of Sawyer will be revealed. I have a plan of what to do with Sawyer and Scabior, so bare with me. The title of the chapter comes from the chorus of (the only part of the song I like) "_Written in the Stars_" by Eric Turner. I think the chorus goes with Scabior's point of view on Sawyer and his thoughts about their situation. Every chapter title is from Sawyer's point of view, so now it's from Scabior's. I hope you guys like the way I'm going to do this, and I hope you review! :) Oh, and these upcoming parts will be much more intense than the past 4 parts. Please review! :D_

**"**_**I Will Never Change**_**"**  
**Scabior/OC, Part V**

_My scream was blood curdling while the brand of the Dark Mark was scarred into my skin, on my left forearm. My parents looked at me smugly, like justice was being served. Scabior's cut-off, black glove clad attempted to hold my own to stop and relieve the pain, but I rejected it, gently pushing it away. He looked at me with an ashamed glance, but I avoided his smoky, dark eyes. Voldemort's cold, blank black eyes burned into my skin. I gasped, with loss of my breath._

My eyes flashed open as I recalled the memory, ending it. I pulled the sleeve up of my sweater, slowly. The black tattoo and brand, showcasing a skull with a snake unraveling out of it, was scarred into my skin. I yelped quietly, feeling the pain I felt that night when my parents physically forced me to recieve the Dark Mark on my arm.

"Miss Remmington, _please_! The forests beyond Hogwarts aren't protected." Professor McGonagall begged, instantly snapping me out of my disturbing memory.

My back was turned to Hogwarts' doors, looking out beyond the school, over the bridge, and to the forests and woods where I knew he was, leading his gang of Snatchers, ready to fight, ready to inihilate, murder, to ruin.

I inhaled, closed my eyes, and turned around. "I _need_ to do this," I blurted, my eyebrows scrunched together, with tears stinging my eyes. Hermione, Ron, and Harry had joined McGonagall and Mrs. Weasley on the stone steps of Hogwarts.

The grey and white sweater that I wore that Ron's mother gave me three years ago was a nostalgic reminder that the years of love and memories of Hogwarts and my friends were far gone. The black skinny jeans that had ripped knees that Hermione gave me as a birthday gift was nostalgic of years ago.

Nothing was normal. Severus Snape was the headmaster, Hogwarts was under attack by Voldemort. Death Eaters lined up in crowds by the hundreds behind him, on the frontline being my parents, the Malfoys, and Scabior.

I needed to tell him, tell him that if we were seriously going to fight on opposite war lines, this was the last chance to change everything; the chance to end the loathing between us.

The stars in the dark black nighttime sky twinkled peacefully, like nothing was going on below them. No murder, no hate. A few tears streaked down my cheeks and stung my lips at the realization.

_Everything was changing._

* * *

"And what are _you_, little pretty thing, doing _here_? A spy from _Hogwarts_?"

I gasped when I realized I must've had a death wish to come into the forests where Scabior and his massive Snatcher and werewolf army was assembling. I yelped when I was tugged tighter against the grip of my captor, Fenrir Greyback, as he breathed in my scent. He held me up against his back, twisting both my arms behind me. He mouth was inches from my neck, and I knew he was dying to sink his teeth into my neck muscles and kill me. Snatchers gathered around him, heckling and laughing. There was no way to break out of this; what would I say? I was _with_ Scabior? No, because we _weren't._ We hated each other, and he said it himself_. This doesn't change anything._

"Let _go_ of me!" I yelped, squirming and thrashing violently in Greyback's arms. My weak plea erupted hysterical, sinister laughter from the groups of Snatchers around us.

"How 'bout a sweet taste of your little neck, _love_?" Greyback hissed in my ear mockingly. My blood ran cold as his mouth brushed my ear, his whisper rattling my spine. I shut my eyes, breathing in. I felt his hot breath as he was about to come down with his teeth on my flesh, Snatchers cheering and laughing manically around me.

"Take yer hands off 'er, if ya know what's good for you, ugly." A familiar Cockney accent carried the insult that burned in my eardrums, "_Now_, if you don't mind."

The Snatchers fell silent.

Before I was given the chance to even open my eyes, I was thrown violently out of Greyback's clutch to the forest floor. Dead leaves scattered the ground from the past autumn. I gasped, the impact of the swift slam to my stomach and ribs knocking the wind out of me. I attempted to breathe, grasping my abdomen, begging for oxygen to come back to my lungs. I clutched the ground on either sides of me, attempting to yank myself up. Weakness and exhaustion overcame me, allowing me to glance up at him.

Scabior stood two inches from where I laid on the ground, looking down at me in my humiliation, watching me squirm in pain, his black, clunky combat boots in my face. He made me feel humiliated and embarassed, my ribcage throbbing and my lungs begging for the breath that was knocked out of them.

His combat boots, leather jacket with the signature Snatcher red cloth, dark plaid skinnies, red stripe in his brown hair and smoky, dark eyes made me feel initimidated, threatened.

"Seems we 'ave a _guest_." Scabior yelled to his Snatchers, erupting an uproar of approval. I glanced up at him and we locked eyes. He glared down at me with what I guessed was disappointment, disgrace, and shame. A flicker of sadness was in his eyes for a split second, but disappeared.

He reached down, gripping me by the back of my sweater, and yanked me up with no struggle, the back of my shirt scrunched in his fist. He towered over me, twisting my body to him and yanking me to his hip. I yelped, crushed up against his body. He smirked at his gang, "Now to make an example of 'er, to show them mudbloods what'll 'appen if they attempt to fight us, yeah?"

Roars of approval confirmed Scabior's riling up lie. I bit my lip, gasping when Scabior aggressively yanked me to walk with him, gripping the back of my neck tightly in his clutch, just as he had done on the way to Malfoy Manor that night. He walked with me out of the woods, out of the Snatchers' sights and earshots. The bridge to Hogwarts was just down the hill, and I saw Neville standing there, waiting for me to return so that McGonagall could cast the charm over Hogwarts to protect it.

Scabior released his grip from me with a gentle push, and he glared at me, looking at me as the two of us stood at the bottom of the hill.

His smoky, very dark eyes bared into mine, reminding me of an infuriated dog's eyes. Yet his expression was calm and knowing of me, and he crossed his arms, annoyed. He huffed, "Sawyer, I don't know what the bloody _hell_ yer thinkin'..."

"I don't want to fight you." I blurted, and it came out desperate. He raised his eyebrows, his expression very serious, surprised. He inhaled quietly and repeated, "You _don't_ want to fight? You're going to let yerself join the Dark Lord? A Death Eater?"

"No," I replied, "I just...I can't fight _you_. One of us is going to die if we keep this up. I know you don't want to fight me, just as much as I don't want to fight you, Scabior. Please..."

He looked at me, disappointed. He quickly gripped my chin in his clutch, gently bringing me to him, intimately close. I gasped when he clutched me to him, his black glove-clad hand cupping my chin. I reached up and latched on to his wrist that held me chin. My eyes searched his for pity, sympathy, empathy, compassion. Again, I found absolutely none. I stared up into his infuriated, smoky black eyes. He looked at me for a moment, and exhaled, "I told you that it didn't change anythin', my lovely."

"Are you going to kill me?" I asked quietly, tears stinging the outlines of my eyes. He searched my eyes again, his eyes darting back and forth, searching for something. After a moment, he sighed, "No."

He yanked me out of his grip, but in a quick movement, he gripped my left forearm, twisting it and bringing me to his chest, so our noses were almost touching, our mouths close, so I could hear him breathing. I gasped when he ripped my sleeve of my sweater up to reveal the Dark Mark on my arm, the snake coming out of the skull. I bit my lip, just looking at it felt excruciatingly painful. "Look at it," He demanded, "And see what and who you really belong to."

I glared at him, "I don't..."

"Yes, you _do_." He snarled, cutting me off, "You were born into it, you agreed with it. You grew up with it. It runs in yer blood."

"You stood there are watched as I screamed," I said, "You stood there while Voldemort did it."

"And what the bloody hell was I supposed to do? Stand up to him?" He snapped.

Even though I knew he was right, I gently reached up to his neck, pushing his scarf out of the way, revealing the line of random tattooed numbers on the left side of his neck; his Azkaban prison numbers, always marking him as a Azkaban convict. He looked at me, surprised. "You weren't born into being in Azkaban. People marked you. Just like I wasn't born into being a Death Eater, Voldemort marked me."

He looked down at me with that infuriated, heartbroken glare, his eyes untrusting and his voice quiet but his Cockney accent thick, "What's yer point?"

"I don't want it to be this way between us," I replied, "If one of us dies tonight, I _just_...I don't want to know that I never got the chance to talk to you if it does happen..."

His hand still curled around my foerarm, he clutched me to him and our noses were touching, clashing against each other. He held me so close to him, I could hear him breathing, and I could smell his scent of the woods. Even though he held me so harshly and cruelly in his grip, his face was stressed and worried. I reached up to him and let my lips brush his gently, and I put my head on his chest, my cheek laying against the familiar leather of his jacket. He had no reaction at first, although after a moment of slight hesitation, he put his chin on my head.

In the warm, star-ridden May night, a feeling of sadness and fear ignited in me as I embraced Scabior. He refused to let his guard down, and so did I. Neither of us were willing to give up the army's side we'd chosen; it just wasn't what was in the cards.

We were too different.

"Don't do this," I murmured into his leather jacket.

I looked up at him, and he arched his head down and pressed his lips to mine, both of his hands on the back of my neck. The tears released themselves from my eyes, spilling down, hitting our interlocked lips. My heart throbbed in my chest, my chest physically hurting as he kissed me. He ripped himself away from me, "I'm sorry. I have to, beautiful. This is the way it has to be."

"I love you." He muttered into my hair. I looked at Scabior, and he looked down at me, that familiar heartbroken, disappointed glance in his dark eyes.

Abruptly, I heard riling up, war cries, and howling from the woods behind us. His Snatchers and gangs were ready to attack, to murder everyone in sight and attempting to protect Harry.

"So I'll give you a head start." He murmured in my ear, his Cockney and his whisper sending a chill down my spine, rattling my ribcage.

He retreated back from my neck, releasing me. Our eyes met and we both understood what would happen tonight. Our hands that were interlocked slowly broke away, ungripping from each other, my hand slowly and hesitantly slipping out of his grasp.

"_Run_." He said quietly.

I looked up at him as I walked backwards slowly, the woods coming to life with uproars of violent war yells, howling, and pure evil. Fire glowed in the woods from their bonfires, to rile them up to be ready for attack. Fear was flushed into my face, as I looked up at Scabior, his army flooding out of the woods. His grim, heartbroken glance felt like an arrow was shot in my chest. I blinked up at him, and sprinted for the Hogwarts bridge.

And I didn't dare look back.


	6. Where I First Saw You

_New update. Things begin to get intense, our at least, that's how I wanted to portray them. I'm going to guess I'll put up 2 more parts, so please let me know what you think about this one! This chapter will show how and when Scabior and Sawyer first met, hopefully it's not too gushy or not too cold. I'm attempting to picture Scabior if he actually liked a girl in the movies and how he would act towards her. After all, he is a Death Eater/Snatcher. I wrote the chapter to the song "_The Man Who Can't Be Moved_" by the Script, as the song is from a man's point of view about the first time he meets the girl he's in love with, seeing as this flashback is about Scabior and Sawyer meeting for the first time. Please enjoy, read, and review! :)_

**"_Where I First Saw You"  
_Scabior/OC, Part VI**

It was around twelve'o clock midnight when the meeting was held. I ran a hand through my hair, my eyes beginning to flutter shut with exhaustion as I sat around a lengthy black table in one of the Ministry of Magic's secret meeting rooms, entry was given by Lucius. Every Death Eater known to me since I was little was in attendance. Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Severus Snape, my parents, Yaxley. The list was endless. I yawned in exhaustion, slumping against Draco.

He jabbed me in the ribs with his elbow, and muttered, "Sawyer, if _I_ have to sit through this bloody meeting, so do you."

Being the only two children of Death Eaters and the only young adults at these Death Eater meetings, things could get very boring.

I numbly looked at him, arching an eyebrow. I replied jokingly, twirling my wand, "Draco, if I turned you into a ferret right now, then I guess I could sleep in peace without you annoying me to stay awake, right?"

"Piss off." He muttered, smugly smiling at me. The room was quiet around us, and we both realized we'd been interrupting the meeting. Draco and I embarassingly and uncomfortably muttered our apologies, the Malfoys and my parents shooting both of us dagger glares. My parents were like Draco's parents, and Draco's parents were like my parents.

"As I was _explaining_," Dolores Umbridge snipped in her decivingly polite, sweet speech, "The Ministry is now rounding up every muggle-born, mudblood, blood traitor, or anyone who does not fit what the Ministry, or my, expectations."

I rolled my eyes. I was a blood traitor, a pureblood who was in Gryffindor and friends with Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley. The only reason I wasn't being attacked for this was because I was under the protection of my parents and the Malfoys, who stood high in the eyes of Voldemort. Only, very few people knew about our friendship at this moment in time. My parents barely knew about it.

I hated Umbridge. She was self-serving and only out for more recognition. She was not a Death Eater, but she rode my parents' and the Malfoys' coat tails and took advantage of the situation the Death Eaters created to place herself in a position more to her advantage. She didn't care who she hurt or who's life she ruined. She took advantage of as long as she could exert her authority over others, even the Death Eaters, which was a scary limit to test.

"Dolores," My mother asked impatiently, almost rudely. "How are we going to do_ that_? There are thousands of them, too many to catch by just one group. The Dark Lord does not appreciate disorganization."

"I agree with Genevieve," Narcissa Malfoy snapped, looking bored with whatever Umbridge was attempting to explain to the Death Eaters, "There's absolutely no way."

"And none of us have time to go round up the mudbloods." Lucius snapped. "Or the filthy blood traitors."

"That's why we're sending out Snatchers, groups of them. They'll apparate wherever the groups we're suspecting-Mudbloods, Muggleborns-will be. They're fast, the fastest the Ministry has." Umbridge explained, a devious smile on her chubby, round face.

The Death Eaters glanced at her expectantly.

Emerging into the room were a group of men. They weren't too young, but they weren't too old. They ranged from their early to mid-twenties. They were dressed in sweatshirts, leather jackets, clunky combat boots, and dark clothing. I curiously began looking up at them. There was at least fifteen of them. Their was a clear leader, as he pushed his way to the front, the rest of the Snatchers allowing him easy access to let him through.

He stood confidently at the very front of the Snatchers. He looked in his early twenties, maybe twenty to twenty-two. He had both hands enclasped together at his front patiently. He had long, tangly brown hair, part of it in a slouchy ponytail, the rest down. A red stripe ran discreetly on the top of his head. He wore a rustic, worn leather jacket, and underneath it was a brown, tattered shirt. A red cloth was tightly wrapped around his left arm. One hand was bare, while the other had a black finglerless glove on it. His eyes were smoky and very dark, thoughtful He wore dark plaid skinnies, which sleeked into black clunky combat boots. He had some stubble, and a handsome rugged face. His mouth was twitched into a smug smirk as he looked at Umbridge expectantly. As Umbridge began explaining their duties to the Death Eaters, I looked at him.

I'd never seeing anyone else like him.

We locked eyes for what seemed like half a second, until Umbridge pulled his attention to her.

After around another hour of the meeting, the Death Eaters apparated. The only two Death Eaters left were the Malfoys and my parents, who talked after the meeting. Draco waited at the table as our parents continued to talk to each other about Voldemort's plans, what to do with Harry Potter, and other Death Eater related subjects. It was a summer night, and I needed some air. I sighed, exhausted at this hour into the night. I walked to the door, and looked back at Draco. "You want to get some air?"

"I'm fine, you go." He said, twirling his wand on the table, arching his head to our parents, "I'll wait for them."

I shrugged, tired. I began walking throughout the Ministry, back towards the exit. The black bricks and green lighting of the main Ministry intersection was so gaudy, along with the massive fountain. I made my way out the revolving doors and out into the night. I swore under my breath when I realized it was raining.

The raindrops fell like bullets, soaring from the dark nighttime sky. I huffed and began walking, needing to clear my thoughts. I walked down the street, loving the rain as it hit my face. Nevertheless, nothing could realize me from my worry about Hogwarts and it's hinting of a downfall. I walked down the alleyway beside the Ministry.

I was walking when I heard trash cans tumbling and loud movements behind me. I inhaled, and spun around. My wand was out and I glared at what was in front of me. Nothing was there. But when I swirled around, I was face to face with the lead Snatcher.

I yelped as he clutched me aggressively.

"And who might _you_ be, my lovely?" He hissed icily, grabbing my arm and yanking me to him, bringing me up against the brick wall in the dark alleyway, the raining pouring from the night sky, "Mudblood, muggleborn? Sneaky around at night 'ere ain't good for you, I'm afraid."

"I'm _not_ a mudblood." I said quickly. "I swear."

"Oh, _really_?"

"I was at the meeting tonight. My parents are Death Eaters."

"And what do they call you, love?"

"Pureblood. Sawyer Remmington," I said calmly, looking up into his smoky, dark eyes. He smirked at me, gently releasing me. Our eyes locked quickly, and he grinned deviantly, proudly. "I'm sorry for the confusion, my lovely."

I was so curious about him. "You're the leader of the Snatchers, aren't you?"

"Pureblood. Scabior." He replied, holding out his fingerless-glove clad hand, the thunder rumbling while he looked down at me, given he was at least four inches taller than I was.

I looked at his hand for a moment, and gently took it in mine. We looked up at each other, smiling meekly, as the rain poured down and the thunder rumbled. The rain hit both our faces, as I smiled up at him.

And the rest is history.

* * *

That night felt so distant from now.

I ran so fast, my joints ached. I sporinted onto the wooden bridge, gasping for breath. "Sawyer? Where are you going? What are you doing? What's going on?" Neville yelled, confused, as I flung myself into him, grabbing his arm. I pointed to the hill, which had at least two thousand Snatchers, Werewolves, and Death Eaters charging towards the Hogwarts castle. "Bloody hell!" Neville exclaimed.

I looked at him, "Did McGonagall put up the spell yet?" Neville nodded.

The two of us looked at the charging forces of the Snatchers' army, while two of them travelled to far into McGonagall's spell; they disappeared in a short second. Scabior skidded in his tracks and held back his army. We met eyes from so far away, vengeful yet heartbroken looks in both our eyes.

"Yeah? You and who's army?" Neville screamed.

Scabior huffed, out of breath. He looked infuriated, filled with anger. His chest went up in down in annoyance, his wand out. The cooler night arm expelled his breath as he breathed. He looked at me with disapointment, and I felt tears streak down my face.

"Don't do this."

**Review? :)**


	7. You Electrify My Life

_Hey readers. This is the second-to-last part in the Scabior/Sawyer fic, and the song title's from the song "_Starlight_" by Muse. The next (and last) chapter will be the epilogue, similar to the end of HP: DH Part 2. So, here's what's next in this chapter. Hoped you like how I changed Scabior's scene from the movie. As always, reviews are completely appreciated and loved ;D_

**"_You Electrify My Life_"**  
**Scabior/OC, Part VII**

Neville and I looked up at the nighttime sky as thousands upon thousands of hexes and spells hurled and hit the enchantment around Hogwarts, looking like little balls of lightening crackling up against the barrier. Suddenly the barrier was disrupted; the layering of magic began to crumple in pieces of whisps of fire. The spell was breaking, by Voldemort's wand. I looked to Scabior and his Snatchers.

Scabior clutched his wand in his right hand and with it he caught a piece of the firey whisp of the barrier. His jaw dropped a little and he looked up at me, and both of our eyes refused to leave each other. I shook my head at him. He looked at Neville, and I knew he'd make Neville pay for the "you and who's army" comment.

Scabior took one step forward with his black, clunky combat boot, and nothing happened. He gave a malicious smirk to Neville, and he yelled a war cry. His Snatchers roared behind him, and they sprinted as fast as they could for the bridge Neville and I were on.

Neville's eyes grew very wide and I ran as fast as I could off the covered bridge, dragging Neville behind me like a rag doll. Scabior led the Snatchers at full speed behind us, hurling hexes and curses at him.

I yelped as I dodged a few of them myself; we were almost at the end of the bridge. I looked up ahead and my jaw almost hit the ground in shock. The stone courtyard had Death Eaters and our side dueling, swinging their axes, Death Eaters apparating and flying through the air in black blobs. Choas and utter barbarics had ensued, and it was a full out war between good and bad wizards.

A cracking sound of wood behind me sent a shiver down my back, rattling my ribcage. I swirled around as I ran, and my eyes grew wide. Neville had thrown a hex at Scabior but had missed, instead hitting the wooden boards that supported the bridge. Now the bridge was collapsing.

With me and Scabior on it.

I yelped and Neville and I scrambled to the end of the very long bridge. Scabior and his Snatchers noticed the bridge was collapsing from the start, and they sprinted as fast as they could. But the bridge collapsed within the middle, sending the Snatchers, and Scabior, hurling to the depths of ground below.

"_No_!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, so hard that it hurt, "Scabior, _no_!"

Neville and I were in the middle of the waging war of Death Eaters and Hogwarts adults and students. Neville held me back as I screamed, tears streaking down my face. Neville muttered in my ear that we needed to move, as we were in the middle of hexes and curses getting hurled through the air. I ignored him.

"Now, my lovely...aren't _I_ the one who taught _you_ how to apparate?"

A thick Cockney-accent voice rumbled in my eardrums, and I turned around to see Scabior, smirking deviantly. His wand was out and pointing it at me. He apparated before he hit the ground.

Neville flicked out his wand, standing in front of me and glaring at Scabior. It was sweet of him, but I didn't see how a Snatcher and Death Eater four years older than Neville could be beaten by Neville.

"Neville, let me do this." I said, not taking my eyes off of Scabior, "Find Harry, Hermione and Ron. Tell them I'm here, please."

Neville hesitantly dropped his wand and bolted for Hogwarts Castle, running and dodging other hexes and curses, disappearing into the school like another face in the crowd. I spun around to face Scabior again, who was at least four feet away from me. He grinned, amused.

"I thought you were dead." I said firmly, raising my wand to him, "I really did."

The two of us stood, wands raised to each other, in the middle of a violent and turbulent fight. Giants, massive spiders, Death Eaters, and hexes were everywhere. Death Eaters that were apparating in the air crashed through windows in their black robes form to gain entry to the castle. I spotted my parents from across the courtyard, fighting.

"Sawyer, this can't keep goin'." Scabior said simply, arching an eyebrow to me, "It ain't right. I mean, bloody hell. Just be a Death Eater. Your whole 'amily is and so am I."

"I know," I said, "And that's why I can't."

He smirked, and instantly we both threw hexes at each other at the same time. We went back and forth rapidly, sparks of light flying from the tips of our wands; green, blue, orange hexes and curses, hurling them towards each other. We backed up, attempting to defend ourselves. Not once did either of us successfully hit each other. No matter how hard we tried, not one curse or hex could hit the other. Backhand, fronthand. Not one spell could hit each other.

There was a rumble of thunder in the dark nighttime sky, and I dropped my wand when I heard Voldemort's voice in my head. His voice was an intolerable hiss, and I hated it.

"_You have all fought valliantly. You have been loyal to me, Death Eaters. But I still do not have what I want. I shall give both sides time to collect their dead. I ask my forces to retreat. And Harry Potter, I now speak directly to you. If you do not meet me in the Forbidden Forest in an hour, I will kill every man, woman, and child who attempts to protect you_."

Voldemort's voice vanished as soon as it had came, and instantly, the fighting stopped. Death Eaters quickly disappeared as black clocked figures swirling through the air to escape back to Voldemort.

Scabior dropped his wand and looked at me, his smoky black eyes unsure of what he wanted to say. It was almost as though Voldemort scared these wizards and witches into following him, which he probably did. I locked eyes with Scabior, and against my better judgement, dropped my wand and slammed by body into his, embracing him desperately, linking my arms around his neck, "I really thought you were gone."

It was silent for a moment until he looked down at me and a small smirk broke on his lips; he reached down and ran a hand through my hair, pressing his mouth against mine. It was quick and easy, and we ripped apart from each other in a moment, quickly and hesitantly seperating.

I backed away from him, my hair messy and face dirtied from fighting. The blackness of the apparation of Death Eaters began to twirl around his legs to bring him back to Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

I said quickly with a sad smile, "This doesn't change anything."

He smirked at me reassurringly, giving off a small laugh, and in an instant he was gone, in the twirl of blackness. I looked up at the nighttime, the stars twinkling like always. I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Sawyer?" Ron said gently, Hermione and Harry behind him, "C'mon inside."

* * *

Remus Lupin, Tonks, Fred Weasley, Lavender Brown, Severus Snape. Just a few of the friends that Hermione, Harry, Ron and I lost during the fight of Hogwarts. Everything was falling apart. Harry knew he had to go to the Forbidden Forest, to face Voldemort. As much as Harry, Hermione, Ron and I hated to admit it, the only way was to face Voldemort.

I thought of Scabior, and how he just switched from hexing me to kissing me. I still loved him, and my heart and chest physically hurt when I realized we were brutally fighting each other.

Ron, Hermione and I sat on the stone steps inside of Hogwarts, crumbled stone staircases and fallen paintings from the grand walls on either sides of this. Hogwarts was crumbling to the ground. The three of us sullenly sat there, until we heard footsteps. Harry's footsteps.

"We thought you'd left for the forest." Ron said quietly, the three of us standing up to see Harry coming down the staircase we sat on.

Harry nodded, "That's where I'm going. I've just found out something about myself. I think I've known it, known it for a while. And I think you three have known, too. None of us wanted to admit it. But part of him lives in me. You all know it. I have to go down there."

I was in tears, as was Hermione, who squeaked, "I'll go with you."  
"Harry, please don't." I said quietly, "Voldemort, he..."

"Sawyer, Hermione. It's alright. I have to go alone. You three kill the snake. If we kill it, then it's just him." Harry said firmly. Hermione jumped and hugged him, and I did after her. Ron and Harry exchanged looks.

The three of us watched as he slowly walked out of the castle, to the forest, and out of sight.

* * *

As the three of us sat eagerly on the crumbling stone staircases, we heard a rukus outside. Hogwarts students and the remaining adults and professors ran outside. Hermione, Ron and I exchanged looks, quickly getting up and bolting out the large wooden doors of the castle. We pushed our way to the front, and we were met with a massive army of Death Eaters, led by Lord Voldemort himself.

I felt out of breath, as if someone had sucker punched me in the abdomen, the shock was so great. Harry laid lifeless in Hagrid's arms, who was chained up by at least three or four Death Eaters.

Voldemort was tall, extremely pale, and intimidating. His eyes were so frightening. I remember the first time I'd met him, I refused to look him in the eyes.

"Harry Potter is dead!" Voldemort announced loudly, and gasps escaped the crowd on our side, where all the teachers, adults and Hogwarts students were. Hermione, Ron and I exchanged confused and heartbroken looks.

"_No_!" Ginny screamed, running for Harry's body that laid in Hagrid's arms across the courtyard, but Mr. Weasley held her back tightly. Voldemort grimaced at her, and hissed, "Stupid girl. You should be rejoicing!"

He looked to the sea of Death Eaters behind him, my parents and the Malfoys standing side by side. My parents caught sight of me and we locked eyes. Beside them was Scabior, who looked at me indifferently, almost as if he didn't know what to think. Voldemort raised his arms in triumphant and repeated, "Harry Potter is dead!"

The Death Eaters erupted in laughter, including my parents. My eyes narrowed, wondering how such terrible witch and wizard could be my parents. Scabior didn't laugh, he just looked at me. I nodded at him.

"If any of you wish to join us and be part of this world now, step forward." Voldemort said in his usual whisper, smiling horrifically. A chill rain through my veins.

There was absolute silence.

I looked up to see Lucius, who had been like a father to me, and Narcissa, like a mother, hiss across the courtyard, "Draco...Draco, come here. Draco, come!"

I looked a few yards to my right to see Draco miserably standing there near Luna, and the look on his face seemed utterly unamused and infuriated. He clearly was not on Voldemort's side anymore, he just was making sure his parents would not be punished by Voldemort.

He looked to me blankly for a moment, and then looked to the courtyard. Draco hesitantly walked to the middle of the courtyard, welcomed by Voldemort, and Lucius and Narcissa attempted to talk to him. Draco was clearly beside himself with anger, and he didn't even look at his parents.

My parents looked at me next, and they knew even before they asked what my answer was.

"Sawyer, _please_." My father said quietly, my mother shooting me a nasty, threatening look if I didn't come over. Voldemort looked at me with the eyes that frightened me, expectant.

I inhaled, and Hermione clutched my arm in support. I let the words escape my lips, "_Never_."

To my surprise, Scabior's mouth twitched into a genuine smile. I locked eyes with him, until Voldemort began to take a few minor steps in my direction, "You are a very, _very_ stupid girl..."

I gripped my wand in my jeans' pocket in anxiety.

"I have something to say!" Neville interrupted, hobbling forward with his limp. Voldemort stopped and looked at Neville, "And who might you be?"

"Neville Longbottom." He replied in a murmur, and an uproar of laughter erupted from the Death Eaters, especially from Bellatrix, who cackled manically. Voldemort hissed with sarcasm, "Well, Neville. I'm sure we'd all love to hear what you have to say."

Scabior and I didn't break eye contact.

"It doesn't matter if Harry died!" Neville snapped, and Seamus interrupted, "Stand down, Neville!"

"No! It really doesn't matter. We lost Remus, and Tonks, all of them. They didn't die in vein." Neville sighed, then instantly he sounded angry when he turned to Voldemort, "But you will!"

Voldemort and the Death Eaters laughed mockingly.

"Look what Harry's done, for all of us!" Neville said, suddenly pulling out Godric Gryffindor's sword. Everyone gasped, and everyone seemed in panic. But nothing was more intense or shocking than what happened next.

Harry jumped from Hagrid's arms, sprinting for the stone pillars. Voldemort's face turned enraged, sending curses, spells and hexes hurling at him, violently.

Complete war began breaking out. Voldemort went after Harry. The Malfoys abruptly left the scene. My parents continued to fight against us. And so the fighting began. Spells flew everywhere, and Scabior and I stood a few feet away, across from each other, despite the chaos ensuing between us.

Our wands were raised to each other, but I couldn't do it. I just couldn't fight him anymore. Before he threw a hex, I dropped my wand, letting it hit the stone ground. Scabior stared at my wand on the ground and then up at me, his face in utter shock. He didn't expect me to give up.

"I can't do this anymore." I said quietly.

Scabior dropped his wand with a clatter, and instantly, I walked to him. He looked at me, dumbfounded. We were both hesitant at first, then he gave in and clutched me against him. We embraced, and he said into my hair, "Sawyer, I never meant it to be this way. Bloody hell, I just..."

I smiled up at him, tears streaking down my face, the two of us embracing as the hexes, spells and curses flew by. This was like it used to be.

I was home.


	8. Epilogue

_Here's the last chapter! I want to thank all of you reviewers and readers for taking the time to view this story. I never thought it would get past ten reviews, so I really want to thank you. For this chapter, I'm showing how Scabior and Sawyer's life would be 19 years after the 2nd Wizarding War. I tried to not make Scabior OOC, but I believe that if he had kids, he'd treat them really well. I tried to picture what I'd think he'd be like when he had kids. I think once Scabior grew older, his style and his personality would change a little bit. So, here it is! Thanks again, and reviews for this last chapter would be absolutely amazing! Thanks again! ;D_

_P.S. __Also, I imagine Scabior's appearance (since he's a parent now) to be the appearance of Nick Moran in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrells. So, if you want to picture what he looks like 19 years from the last chapter, here's the link.  
Just replace (dot) with actual periods._

www(dot)aveleyman(dot)com/ActorCredit(dot)aspx?ActorID=29374

_Also, listen to_ "Leaving Hogwarts___" by John Williams while you read. ;)  
_

**"_Epilogue_"  
Scabior/OC, Part VIII**

"_Chloé_!"

The little three year old girl ran throughout King's Cross Train Station as soon as we entered Platform 9 and 3/4. I rolled my eyes but bit my lip from laughing, as the little child ran to the train. "Chloé! Come back here, now!" I called, attempting to catch up with her.

"I got 'er, I got 'er." Scabior said, coming from behind me.

In an instant, Scabior caught up to our daughter and scooped her up in one swift motion, his arm across her abdomen to keep her secured in his arms. She squirmed and giggled in his clutches, and I smiled at her. She'd gotten her blond hair from me, but gotten her grey-blue eyes from Scabior. She was always running around and was full of energy. She squirmed again, placing her hands on Scabior's as he held her. He switched her position and held her upright in his arms.

"Chloé, you can't go running off." I said, looking at her sternly, "Your dad and I don't want you going off without either of us with you." I broke into a smile when I looked at Scabior but continued to speak to Chloé, "Nevertheless, you're just like your father. Always running around."

"She's got Snatcher blood in 'er," Scabior said proudly, looking down at Chloé, "Ain't that right, my lovely?"

"Yes," Chloé shyly looked up at her father as he held her, and she smiled meekly at him, "Dad, I want to go to Hogwarts with Kingsley. Please?"

She really did have Snatcher blood in her. She ran and scurried around all the time, very full of energy. Scabior and I smiled knowingly at each other and laughed lightly at her eagerness.

Scabior brushed a straw-blond curl out of her eyes and said gently, "You're only three years old, beau'iful. You gotta wait 'til you're eleven. Don't worry, it will come in time."

I felt a tug on the sleeve of my Burberry coat, and I smiled down at our eleven year old daughter, Kingsley. She was the eldest. She had Scabior's brown hair, but had my brown eyes. She had my personality, while Chloé had Scabior's. She held the cart's handles with her trunk on it and her owl in its' cage. She reminded me of my first day at Hogwarts.

Chloé and Kingsley did know a few things about Scabior's past as a Death Eater and his time spent in Azkaban, but we decided that it was best to leave some details out. Chloé didn't really understand it yet, so we let it go until the right time to explain everything came. They knew about the 2nd Wizarding War and how we had fought on opposite sides. We were raising the two of them to accept every wizarding blood and that just because they were purebloods, that didn't mean they were better than anyone else.

My parents and I rarely spoke after the battle at Hogwarts. Both my parents were sent to Azkaban, where they were still residing.

The two girls were friends with the Weasley and Potter kids, and after Draco and I had rekindled our friendship a few years after the Hogwarts battle, I'd introduced my kids to Draco's son. Kingsley had a crush on Draco's son Scorpius, who also had a crush on her, which both Draco and I found to be intresting. Scabior and I lived in London, in a penthouse near Big Ben.

Scabior never really liked to talk with Harry, Hermione or Ron, and he rarely did. It was just something that didn't happen, so I didn't blame him for it.

"Mum," Kingsley sighed, "I'm nervous."

"Oh, Kingsley," I said, smiling at her and kneeling down to be at her level, "Don't be. Hogwarts is a wonderful place. I practically grew up there. You have the Potter and Weasleys to be with, and you and Scorpius love spending time together. You have plently of friends to be with. You're going to do great."

"What if I don't get to be in Gryffindor?" Kingsley asked.

"Then you'll be in Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin." I replied.

"Slytherin?" Kingsley asked worriedly.

"Your father was put in Slytherin. Look how he turned out." I smiled, looking at Scabior who was making Chloé giggle as he held her in his arms gently. He could always keep her entertained. "And my entire family was in Slytherin before me. Uncle Draco was in Slytherin. There's no need to worry."

"But, Mum..." Kingsley said nervously.

"Kingsley," I said to her, smiling comfortingly, "Your father was a Slytherin, and I was a Gryffindor. Either way, you will be placed in the best house that fits you. I promise, you will love Hogwarts."

I kissed her forehead, the train's horn for the last call for boarding. I smiled down at her as I stood back up, "My father and I will write you every week." I reached down, embracing her tightly, "Now remember, don't cause trouble for Hagrid, he'll tell you that me and my friends used to. Make sure to say hello to Professor Longbottom for me, and Professor McGonagall, alright? I love you."

"Bye, sweetheart." Scabior said, hugging her after me and brushing her brown hair out of her face.

She smiled up at the two us, shyly turning around and making her way down the platform to the Weasley and Potter kids, like I had the first day of school at Hogwarts.

Draco and I swapped knowing smiles at each other from across the platform. I nodded at him, both of us knowing how much things had changed. Harry, Hermione and Ron met my eyes, and we smiled brightly at each other.

The steam erupted from the train and the horn went off, and the train began moving. I saw Kingsley in the window seat, situated with the Potter, Weasley and Malfoy kids. Finally, the three of those families could be friends after all this time.

Kingsley spotted Scabior and I, and she began to wave like all the other kids did to their parents. Scabior and I smiled at each other, then to Kingsley, and waved back. The train picked up a little more speed and began moving out of the station, all the parents waving goodbyes to their kids until next summer.

Scabior and I looked at each other as he held Chloé, who buried her face in the crook of Scabior's neck. We smiled at each other.

_I really was home._

**Fini**


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